


Phase 2 May Need to be Reworked

by Square_Pancake



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Charles Is a Darling, Courtship, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Erik is a Sweetheart, F/F, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hogwarts, M/M, Minor Violence, Romance, Triwizard Tournament, Wizards, goblet of fire - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 06:43:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2538083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Square_Pancake/pseuds/Square_Pancake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik had a well thought out plan for courting Charles Xavier.  Just because the first phase depended on an arcane artifact selecting him as a champion didn't make it impractical.  It was the second phase- asking Charles to the Yule Ball -that was the problem.</p><p>A fusion with Harry Potter's world, set pre-Voldemort and post-Grindelwald.</p><p>Plus, amazing fanart <a href="http://quietnightingale.tumblr.com/post/136395535213/though-he-looked-a-bit-uncertain-wringing-his">here.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Phase 2 May Need to be Reworked

The ship rocked slightly as the giant squid splashed on the far side of the Black Lake. With the ease of practice, Azazel strode through the lower deck until he nearly tripped across Janos. “Have you seen Erik? He asked me to help him practice targeting while moving.”

 

Janos jerked his head upwards towards the bow of the ship without taking his eyes from the book in his lap.

 

“Is he watching again? No, never mind, where else would he be,” Azazel sighed.

 

With a smirk and a shrug, Janos settled back against the siding, turning a page calmly.

 

Azazel reached the ladder to the upper deck and with long-practiced ease slung himself out into the open air. As expected, Erik was leaning against the foremast, apparently reading as well. A closer look showed that Erik’s gaze was fixed rather intently on the shore rather than on his reading. Though when Azazel’s footsteps slapped on the wood, Erik immediately ducked his head, looking for all the world as though he were engrossed in the book.

 

“You should just ask him to the Yule ball,” said Azazel. “And soon. Xavier has probably been asked already, you’ll lose your chance if he says yes to someone else because you waited too long.”

 

Erik nodded, “I know. I’m just having some difficulty finding the right time. I was planning on asking him after the first task, but you know how that turned out.”

 

* * *

 

 

Actually, Erik’s entire visit to Hogwarts had been planned out with the eventual goal of Lord Xavier on his arm at the Yule Ball, accepting a courtship offer and eventually planning their marriage contract. Ambitious, yes, but the Lehnsherr heir had learned from a young age that he had to seize opportunities before another house snatched them up.

 

He had first seen Xavier during the summer ICW academic conference in Berlin. Although only the heir to his house, Erik had turned seventeen April of his sixth year at Durmstrang, and his father thought he was old enough to make a decent impression at the less formal wizarding events.

 

Charles Xavier had been presenting some original research on the development and reemergence of familial gifts and magic, and the enhancement of inherent gifts in first-generation magicals. Though still in school, Xavier had ascended to his Lordship at the age of fourteen, and was well acknowledged as uniquely skilled in the area of finding previously latent talents.   It was widely known that the formerly undistinguished Darkholme family had gained full cadet status to the House of Black when their daughter demonstrated full metamorphmagus gifts under Xavier’s tutelage.

 

Based on his reputation, Erik had expected to enjoy the lecture, and perhaps gain some new insight into his own elemental talents. Instead, when Charles Xavier had walked into the room, the warmth of his power projecting over the audience, Erik found himself fighting the immediate urge to wrap his magic around the man and spirit him away.  Fortunately, Jakob Lehnsherr had been with him in Berlin and had suppressed what would have been a rather inappropriate invasion of Lord Xavier’s person.

 

Erik counted that opportunity as a gift from Magic herself, because otherwise he probably wouldn’t have seen Charles Xavier until they had arrived at Hogwarts for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. And without warning, Erik was sure he’d have made a fool of himself in front of three schools and probably alienated himself from the man permanently.

 

Instead, at the ICW conference, Erik made a point of acclimating himself to the gentle warmth of Charles’s aura and the admittedly distracting attractiveness of his features. As just the heir to a Continental house, Erik didn’t have the standing to introduce himself to Xavier. And with the lingering distrust of the German houses following Grindelwald, the House of Lehnsherr didn’t have the British contacts to arrange an introduction either. Not to mention with Charles Xavier as one of the most eligible bachelors among the Wizarding nobility, few houses were willing to provide introductions to potential competitors for his hand.

 

After all, Charles was already Lord of a long-standing, wealthy house, had demonstrated remarkable and much desired skills, and had sufficient magical power to support a surrogacy ritual, meaning that gender was no barrier for his future spouse. Far more importantly to Erik, he had seen Charles interact with several young wizards and witches. Though nominally there for academic reasons, it was well known that Xavier could be approached for advice by families of children with uncontrolled or dangerous gifts if he was not actively presenting.

 

Careful observation had shown Charles with a tiny wizard who kept dissolving into shadows, a young witch who was being struck by miniature bolts of lightning she generated from her own hands, and another who seemed to be continually dripping fire from her fingertips. In each case, Charles had gently led the families into private rooms, eventually emerging with smiling parents and a child clinging to Charles’s robes. That was the kind of care and devotion that Erik wanted in his own spouse. When Erik added Xavier’s features and the welcoming embrace of his magic, Erik was entirely determined to court and win Charles.

 

Since Charles was of age, but still in school, there was an avenue available to Erik that most other suitors lacked. Namely, that the strict formality of Wizarding society was marginally relaxed at the magical schools, enough that Erik could interact with Charles without a chaperone and win his affection without older, more experienced men and women attracting the Lord’s attention: courtship offers from adults to students, even those who were of age, were considered gauche. Even those willing to skirt tradition and send courtship letters would be at a disadvantage – they would be limited to letters only, so long as Charles remained at Hogwarts.

 

Of course, there was the problem that Erik was a student at Durmstrang and not Hogwarts, but with the Tri-Wizard tournament already planned, that was only a small obstacle. Erik’s English was already very good, and after the ICW conference he had spent much of his summer improving his accent and vocabulary.

 

In addition to proximity, the Tri-Wizard Tournament competition itself offered Erik the chance to distinguish himself even more. He had long known that he was the most powerful of his year mates, and his flair for combat meant that the Goblet of Fire would almost certainly select Erik as the Durmstrang champion. Even without the inducement of impressing Charles, Erik would have wanted to compete. With Charles watching, Erik found his desire to win was nearly overwhelming.

 

The only potential hitch would have been if Charles had entered the competition as well. Erik had been expecting him to, since Charles’s achievements suggested a desire to excel; while Erik would have still done his best to win, starting off their relationship as antagonists would be an obstacle to his eventual goal, especially if Erik’s strong competitiveness overwhelmed his good sense.

 

Instead, to his surprised satisfaction, Erik had learned the same day of their arrival that Hogwarts’s Head Boy would not be entering the competition. When asked, Erik had overheard Charles saying that he was far happier to watch his friends compete. Rumor had it that the Xavier Lord was really hoping one of his protégés would enter and win the competition.

 

The night when the Goblet of Fire spat out Erik Lehnsherr, Emma Frost, and Alex Summers, confirmed this hope. Rather than immediately proceed to the front of the room, the Hogwarts Champion, decked out in gold and red, had turned to Charles at the next table over, and hugged him fiercely. Fortunately, Erik’s jealousy was curbed when the boy immediately pulled up another boy from the same table, drew his hand to his mouth and kissed the boy’s wrist. The tall boy, his eyes obscured behind thick glasses, had blushed fiercely, but he had also pulled the blue and bronze scarf from his neck and draped it around Summers as a token before the champion walked forward.

 

Over the next few weeks it was revealed that the sixth year Hogwarts student and his young brother were orphans whose schooling was sponsored by the Xavier family. Further research had uncovered evidence that both boys were pyrokinetics who had worked with Charles in developing their control. The elder Summers had wanted to court another young man, but lacked the standing and the funds to do so. However, just being named the Hogwarts champion was sufficient to at least open the courtship. So Summers wasn’t competition for Charles's affection, and a friendly rivalry with the Hogwarts champion could endear Erik to his ultimate target.

 

The Beauxbatons’s champion was another matter. The coldly beautiful part-Veela Emma Frost had readily exhibited a skill in her race’s mental allure. And while the witch could be after any number of eligible witches or wizards (or none at all, Erik reminded himself), she surely could recognize Charles as the most desirable spouse amongst the three schools. Her Erik would watch with a gimlet eye.

 

The first phase of his plan, namely being selected as his school’s champion, went off without a hitch. It was during the second phase that Erik ran into trouble.

 

The first task had pitted each champion against giant mage-smithed golems. The arcane constructs were supernaturally fast and tough, and inscribed with runes for durability and aggressiveness. Each champion shared a platform with one of the golems, and had to defend a delicate and precariously balanced glass sculpture without leaving the raised area. The Beauxbatons champion would be defending a rearing abraxan, the Hogwarts champion a phoenix landing on one outstretched claw and the Durmstrang champion a griffon. They were judged on the length of time they managed to protect the structure against the tireless golems and the skills they displayed doing so.

 

Emma Frost had gone first. Much to the audience’s surprise, she had immediately raised a defensive structure around the glass winged horse. Flowing around the glass, Ms. Frost threaded water throughout the structure and then began transmuting the water into steel. As she worked on the defense, Frost attempted to distract the golem with flashes of fire directed towards its head.

 

Though initially disoriented, the construct eventually lumbered towards the steel and water-wrapped glass, raising one fist and smashing down towards the platform.  A gust of wind from Frost’s wand knocked the fist slightly off-course and it hit one of the Abraxan’s wings, rather than directly on the head. An ominous crack sounded, but the steel reinforcement meant that no glass fell to the platform. With a frown, Emma twirled her wand, conjuring chains around the ankle of the golem and sending the links skittering across the stage, pulling the construct away from the sculpture.

 

Power flared visibly through the runes on the golem, and with a sudden burst of strength, it broke free of the chains, while a pale and shaky Frost attempted to snake them around the golem again. Just before it reached the sculpture, she managed to wrap the conjured chains around the golem’s chest and bring it to a temporary standstill.

 

As she attempted to catch her breath, the construct’s fist lashed out against the student. Emma was taken off guard by the golem’s change in tactics and was unable to dodge in time, crumpling around the impact and flying off the platform. The cushioning charms around the dais caught her safely, but her cry of agony at the original blow echoed through the arena, though she immediately gained her feet under her own power in time to watch the end of the challenge.

 

Frost’s exit dissolved the chains, and the golem strode towards the sculpture. A flurry of blows reduced the rearing horse to a pile of warped metal and shattered glass.

 

In contrast to Frost’s defensive combat, Alex Summers took the stage and immediately began offensive attacks.   Fire bloomed around one fist as Summers called upon his pyrokinesis and charged the golem directly, his other hand apparently casting self-augmentation charms. In watching the fight on omnioculars later, Erik had been impressed with both the speed and power of Alex’s blows as his magic bolstered his physical prowess. Leaping towards the golem on enhanced legs, Alex had scaled the construct before it could catch him out of the air. He then wrapped his legs around its neck and drove his fist towards the optical runes on the head of the golem. The fire-wreathed hand slammed into the golem’s face, and a resounding crack signaled the shattering of at least one rune.

 

Dodging the golem’s reaching hand, Summers swung himself off the golem’s back and rolled easily across the ground as he landed. The rune he had destroyed must have been critical for visual detection, because the golem began swinging wildly at the air, apparently blind. Bolstered by his success, Alex struck again, this time landing a blow against a cluster of control runes at the center of the construct’s chest. Unlike the previous attack, this one seemed to have no effect. Instead, the golem began to lumber forward towards the phoenix sculpture, still swinging its fists wildly through the air.

 

Desperately, Alex struck at the back of the golem’s knee, knocking a piece of stone lose and staggering the automaton. Still, the construct lumbered forward as Summers sprinted to get between the automaton and the phoenix. Sheathing his wand, Alex’s fire writhed across his chest and around his second fist, and he grasped them together as he leapt skyward, bringing them down in an overhand strike aimed right at the center of the golem’s chest.

 

For a moment, the attack seemed ineffective, but then light rippled across the golem’s skin until the runes blazed with white-hot heat. From the panic on Alex’s face, he recognized the effect and desperately flared out his fiery aura to surround his entire body before the golem exploded spectacularly. The glass sculpture shattered in the backlash of the golem’s destruction, and Alex was knocked to the ground, the stone of the platform cratering around him, fire pooling unnaturally on the ground. As medics rushed the stage, the construct continued to crumple, eventually dissolving into rubble and melted metal.

 

By the time Erik was to defend, all remnants of Alex’s golem had been cleared from the arena, and the judges had assured the crowd that Summers had survived the task, though the extent of his injuries was not voiced.

 

Much like his opponents, Erik had known that the first task was going to involve golems, but none of them had known the number or composition of their adversaries. However, when he reached the stage, Erik was elated at what he saw. The runes all over the golem had been inscribed with adamantium rather than the more common enchanted gold.

 

Gold was easier for enchanters to work with, though a touch more expensive. Adamantium was hard to engrave precisely, and prone to failing spectacularly if runes were even a touch off. Though the choice was probably a way for the schools to demonstrate their runemasters’ abilities with the extremely challenging material, in this case it worked in Erik’s favor. While he had never had much success manipulating gold or silver, Erik had long ago found that his elemental abilities were well suited to directing other metals.

 

His initial plan had been to immobilize the golem with conjured barriers while studying the controlling runes and then modifying the enchantment by adding additional runes to incapacitate the golem. But with the construct riddled with adamantium, Erik’s path was much simpler, he could manipulate the runes directly. As soon as he was instructed to begin, Erik slapped his hand against the floor of the platform. A visible wave of magic raced from his hand towards the golem. The lowest runes, for balance, glowed visibly and then twisted from the Nordic symbol Geto into Isa, from balance to stillness.

 

As the glow faded from the first runes, it flowed into the next ones in succession. Each rune was subtly changed, redirecting the power of the golem away from mobility and into the earth. The control runes reshaped themselves under Erik’s magic, twisting the dominance away from the original enchantments and into the Durmstrang student’s hands.   The golem shuddered and fell to one knee in mimicry of Erik’s posture.

 

It was a dazzling display of fine control and understanding of runes far beyond what any of the audience or judges expected from the seventeen year old. Smirking, Erik straightened up from his crouched position, lifting his hand from the ground.   The construct followed suit, and mirrored Erik’s bow to the gaping judges as he waited for his score once they realized he had completely subverted the challenge. Covertly scanning the crowds, Erik was gratified to see Charles Xavier staring at him wide-eyed from the door of the medic’s tent.

 

As their eyes met, Erik was sure that he wasn’t imagining the flushed admiration in Charles’s face nor the inviting smile he offered. Once he received his scores, Erik planned to capitalize on his success and immediately corner the wizard and ask him to the Yule ball. Erik’s performance was by far the most impressive of the three, as a quick glance around the arena showed that only the glass griffon remained standing. The impressive display would smooth over any remaining objections to Erik introducing himself rather than waiting for the more highly ranked wizard to approach him.

 

Sadly, the second phase of wooing the Xavier Lord failed. Erik’s scores for the task had been announced, putting him far in the lead, but the wizard barely heard the announcement, focused as he was on Charles. Then, just as he descended from the stage to approach the other boy, Charles started in surprise and ducked his head back into the medic tent, apparently responding to someone calling for him. With an apologetic glance over his shoulder, Charles entered the tent and left Erik standing a bit bereft at his absence.

 

Fortunately, Azazel was on hand, and seeing the issue, dragged Erik towards the tent “just to make sure you’re in fine shape, maybe you used too much magic.”

 

Mollified, Erik followed Azazel only to be brought up short. The second competitor, Summers, was sitting bare-chested between Charles and the boy whose wrist he had kissed at the champion selection. They hadn’t noticed the entrance of the Durmstrang students as each boy held one of Summers’s hands tightly while a medic waved her wand over the Hogwarts champion. Shards of glass delicately worked their way out of his blood-spattered torso as the boy snarled and swore. Rather than be caught staring, Erik dragged Azazel into one of the curtained areas and resigned himself to waiting for a medic to perform the checkup he knew he didn’t need.

 

The curtains blocked the visual, but the sound of the three boys talking still filtered through. Trying to convey a wordless demand for Azazel’s silence, Erik gave into the temptation to eavesdrop.

 

“It was the fucking Uruz rune, I know it,” snapped Summers. “I was sure that they’d have used Kenaz for a guardian construct, so I didn’t even worry about overloading it.”

 

“Well, Uruz is useful for physical strength,” said Charles thoughtfully, “I bet they didn’t think anyone would even have the power to overwhelm it to the point that it reversed. And even if it had been Kenaz, a reversal _could_ have resulted in the explosion.”

 

“We should test that,” exclaimed the third voice. Erik blinked in disbelief and tried to process the fact that Charles and the other boy were having a discussion about runes literally over the injured body of their friend. He wondered what it said about him that he was even more attracted to Charles now.

 

Before he could think too hard about it, Summers interrupted again, “guys, you missed the point where I got hurt because the golem blew up and you should be paying attention to me and not your experiments.”

 

Erik could hear Charles laugh and the third boy say “oh, I know Alex, we were just trying to distract you. Really, it was very impressive.”

 

“I cannot believe how much your power level has increased,” said Charles warmly. Erik could easily picture the smile on the man’s face. “I know you’ve been training, but Alex, that was just marvelous. Of course I’m upset by your injuries, still though. I think it will serve to impress potential patrons when they hear how well you took out an adamantium-runed golem. Though I really did think we had your power issues under control.”

 

“Oh, well that’s actually my fault” Hank said sheepishly. “I enchanted a focus for Alex to increase his power output safely, but of course he couldn’t take it in there with him.”

 

“Shut up Hank, I knew the risk I was taking, it was not your fault I blew myself up,” snarled Alex. “And since I’m not even going to have scars, I don’t want you to worry about it.”

 

“So…did you want to hear about the other champions?” asked Charles after an awkward silence. “Hank saw Ms. Frost’s performance, but he was in here during the last one.” Erik frowned as the idea of Charles using the other champion’s name but not his. He had thought he had made a better impression than that. Charles continued, “Raven of course recorded them on her omnioculars for you to watch later.”

 

“And how did your handsome Mr. Durmstrang do? Was he as impressive as you expected? Or were you too distracted to notice?” the teasing in Alex’s voice was hidden under the gruffness, but a glance at Azazel’s face told Erik he wasn’t imagining things.

 

“ _Mr. Lehnsherr_ was actually really impressive,” Charles admitted in a slightly strangled voice. “anyway, I’ll just go see Raven about those recordings, shall I?”

 

That was the only warning they received before Charles was dashing out the tent, fortunately not seeing the beet-red Durmstrang champion as he fled.

 

Distantly, Erik heard Hank’s voice, “really Alex, was that necessary?”

 

“What? So I didn’t want to hear about how amazing that German guy is while I’m getting healed up, is that a crime?” Alex said grumpily. “And besides, I wanted to spend more time alone with you,” he continued suggestively.

 

Fortunately for Erik’s strained sanity, a medic chose that moment to bustle into their curtained area. As he endured the tedious check-up, absentmindedly answering the medic’s questions, Erik tried to contain his elation at what he had overheard. Based on the medic’s suddenly alarmed look, Erik smile had taken on a manic edge. More than once Erik had been told that his grin could give small children nightmares about teeth. Almost immediately the medic cleared him to leave, and Erik sauntered out with Azazel, humming under his breath. 1

 

* * *

 

 

“You didn’t get a chance to ask him immediately after the task, I don’t see why you haven’t asked him since then. His friend’s words make it clear that he likes you too.”

 

“I know, Azazel,” Erik said, frustration clear in his voice. “We keep getting interrupted.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

For the week after the first task, Erik’s main obstacles were his fellow Durmstrang students. Erik’s standoffishness was not enough to deter the students who wanted to bask in the reflected glow of his success. The only bright spot was that Erik had only needed to hex one of them before they got the message that they were not allowed to touch him. Granted, he may have overreacted a bit in that case.

 

He had finally managed to lose the most ardent of his admirers just in time to spot Charles turning the corner in front of him. Charles blushed lightly enough that only someone looking extremely closely would notice the color in his cheeks. Naturally, Erik noticed.

 

Just as he opened his mouth to initiate a conversation, a witch that Erik belatedly recognized as a particularly oblivious Durmstrang student grabbed his arm and pulled him into a tight hug. With his arm pinned between her breasts as she embraced him from the side, Erik was hard-pressed to gracefully extract himself. Charles’s previously welcoming expression shuttered close as he continued to walk past Erik.   By the time he had driven the witch off with a well-placed and rather painful knee-reversing hex and langlock to silence her complaints, Charles was long gone.

 

Apparently Erik’s warning, complete with teeth-baring grin as he described exactly what he would do to her if she touched him again, was sufficiently spread that the crowds around Erik diminished significantly.

 

After Durmstrang students were no longer dogging his steps, Erik expected that he’d easily get a chance to ask Charles. Unfortunately, the young lord was nowhere to be found. Judicious questioning of easily intimidated young students revealed that Charles’s tie indicated his affiliation with the Ravenclaw house, students who were normally found haunting the library.

 

Determined skulking turned up nothing after several days, so Erik resolved to figure out where else Charles might be working. More questioning, this time of a rather sleepy looking redhead dressed in red and gold, directed Erik to the shore of the Black Lake. Erik could have kicked himself, since Charles’s evening location was easily visible from the Durmstrang ship if he had taken the time to look.

 

Two weeks after the first task, Erik tried to walk casually towards where Charles had settled next to the lake. As he got closer, he could see that the boy was bundled up against the bitter Scottish weather, with a scarf covering most of his face. His gloves, however, were fingerless, to Erik’s surprise.

 

As he walked closer, Erik could see why. Charles stretched out his fingers to skate across the surface of the lake, and Erik could _feel_ his magic well outwards, forming a clear sphere of water. Charles then held the bubble up to his face and appeared to whisper into it before he released the orb back into the lake. Wondering exactly what Charles was doing, Erik moved even closer and cleared his throat in order to gain his attention. Charles’s head shot up, and he hastily got to his feet, moving slightly towards Erik, but with the scarf obscuring his face, Erik couldn’t see his expression. Still, Charles hadn’t run away, so Erik screwed up his courage and opened the conversation.

 

“Lord Xavier, please forgive my impertinence, but I was so hoping to meet you,” Erik said, his heart in his throat. “I saw your presentation in Berlin this summer, and I wanted to follow up with you.” Erik hoped that it didn’t sound too distant. He wanted a neutral opening for the introduction, yet he also wanted to make sure Charles knew his interest wasn’t purely academic.

 

“Did you enjoy it?” Charles asked, his voice slightly breathless.

 

Encouraged, Erik said, “it was amazing. The idea that beast-speaking has emerged in first generation wizards is incredible! Your work on the topic has been brilliant.”

 

Just as Erik was hoping to turn the conversation more personal, a blonde blur slammed into Charles. Wrapping her arms around Charles’s neck, the interloper jumped on his back and wrapped her legs around his waist. “Charles! You promised that you’d go over potions with me so I can prepare for the test!” Leaning back, the girl unwrapped her green and silver scarf, looped it around Charles’s neck and declared, “now, to the library!”

 

Charles’s dumbfounded expression would have sparked laughter under other circumstances, but Erik could only feel the acidic burn of jealousy in his stomach. A girl wrapping herself around another student, a lord even, suggested either a family relationship or something more intimate. Since research had shown that Charles was the only living member of the Xavier house, and he was hardly shrugging her off, Erik reluctantly decided that his plans were for naught.

 

Nodding his head stiffly in acknowledgement, Erik turned and immediately strode back towards the Durmstrang ship, heartsick and uncaring of his rudeness. A startled yelp behind him gave him pause, and a light touch on his elbow stopped him completely. “I’m so sorry, please forgive Raven’s interruption. The fourth years practiced cheering charms today and she’s a bit over-enthusiastic.”

 

The warmth of Charles's touch distracted him for a moment, but the name Raven tweaked Erik’s memory until he finally placed her as Raven Darkholme, the metamorphmagus Charles was known to associate with. Past mentoring and an overdose of cheering charms could certainly explain their closeness, Erik decided, without there being anything romantic about their relationship.

 

Unfortunately, Charles admitted, “but she’s right that I did promise her some tutoring. Perhaps we can continue our conversation another time?” Charles asked hopefully.

 

Rather than blurting out ‘will you attend the Yule Ball with me?’ as he really wished to, Erik said simply, “of course, I look forward to it.” He then proceeded to berate himself all the way back to the ship for failing to secure a time for said conversation.

 

For the next week, Erik carefully kept watch on Charles’s activities at the Black Lake. To his intense dissatisfaction, the man was always accompanied by one or more other Hogwarts students, usually Summers and Hank.

 

Leading to today, with Erik glumly watching from the Durmstrang ship while Azazel offered unsolicited advice. Erik had just about decided to put off asking until tomorrow when the Russian offered a final tidbit, “I heard that Emma Frost was discussing asking him. Something about how his eyes would complement her jewelry at the Yule Ball.”

 

Erik had enough trouble dealing with Charles’s friends. He didn’t think he could handle seeing a far-too-attractive veela on Charles’s arm and know that it was his own fault. After all, the conversation after the first task indicated that his interest was not one-sided, but he couldn’t expect Charles to keep waiting.

 

Resolve firmed, Erik loftily ignored Azazel’s taunt and strode determinedly off the ship and towards where Charles was sitting with Raven on the shore, both wrapped in blankets and reading. Instead of waiting for Charles to be alone, Erik would just ask Charles for a moment in private, no matter how scandalous the suggestion. Apparently sensing his approach, Raven glanced up, and then immediately jumped to her feet.

 

“Goodbye Charles, I just remembered I needed to ask…um… Irene about divination, I’ll see you later,” she squeaked.

 

Without looking up, Charles said, “you’re not taking divination, you don’t have to lie if you just want to spend time with Irene.”

 

“Right, right,” Raven agreed as she gathered her belongings and retreated to the castle.

 

Finally glancing up, Charles started in surprise at seeing Erik hovering uncertainly above him. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize I had company. Please Mr. Lehnsherr, have a seat.” Erik flushed as Charles unwrapped himself and made room for Erik on the blanket.

 

Erik sat immediately, and relished in the heat he could feel emanating from the other wizard. Bolstered by Charles’s invitation and before he could still his tongue, he blurted, “Erik, please, call me Erik.” Cursing his own presumption, Erik waited for Charles to respond before he furthered the forwardness by immediately asking Charles to the ball.

 

“Erik then,” Charles said warmly, “you must return the favor and call me Charles.”

 

Surprised, Erik had barely muttered an agreement before Charles continued, “and as long as we’re using personal names, can I ask you something else Erik?”

 

“Of course,” Erik agreed hurriedly, still in shock.

 

Though he looked a bit uncertain, wringing his hands in his lap, Charles’s voice was steady, “I know typically a school champion would be doing the asking for an event like this, but this is the first time I’ve managed to find you alone. First you had all your schoolmates, then even when I was waiting and watching the ship you never seemed to be around, so before someone else interrupts, will you attend the Yule Ball with me?”

 

Erik was sure that his jaw-dropped, poleaxed expression didn’t flatter his normally severe features; it was only Charles’s increasingly nervous face that jolted him out of silence with a hoarse, “yes, I would be honored.” Thinking swiftly he added, “though I hope that you’ll do me the honor of exploring the village with me this Saturday since you denied me the opportunity to ask you myself.”

 

Charles’s beaming smile was an answer even before he gave it voice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

1

For the curious, Erik is humming Olim lacus colueram from Carmina Burnana, specifically “dentes frendentes video” or “I see the gnashing teeth.”  The poem is the lament of a swan that has been roasted and is about to be eaten.

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta-ed, but I will try to get in any corrections that are pointed out or that I find on re-reading.
> 
> cross-posted to my tumblr.


End file.
